


the sore space you leave behind

by RonnieSilverlake



Series: divine bones [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 Is A Dumbass, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieSilverlake/pseuds/RonnieSilverlake
Summary: Connor and Sixty make an impossible choice.Or... they don't.(Whumptober day 2:pick who dies)
Relationships: Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Series: divine bones [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959496
Comments: 11
Kudos: 46





	the sore space you leave behind

“You have ten minutes, while I get my things ready,” says Felicia Andronikov impassively, and she leaves the room.

Connor and Sixty look at each other, their expressions identical. Neither of them seem willing to speak first, even though their window is limited. Still, ten minutes is actually quite long when you consider the processing speed of an RK800, let alone two.

“Well,” Sixty says after a good twenty-four seconds, “you’re already hooked up nicely there, so we might as well spare her the trouble of switching our places.”

If looks could kill, Sixty would be dead already, but given that that’s exactly what he is suggesting, Connor’s expression speaks far more of anguish than anger. “That’s a foolish and arbitrary reasoning,” he says, schooling his voice into one of neutrality, but it only makes Sixty scoff.

“Come on, like the opposite wouldn’t be the same level of arbitrary.”

“We need to  _ properly _ decide,” Connor says, his teeth gritted. He tries to jostle one of his wrists, but the rig holds like a vice, not letting him loosen the grip and break free.

“Do you seriously think there’s a good decision here?” Sixty asks sharply. For the first time, something akin to fear appears in his eyes—it’s only a brief shadow, but Connor catches it, and it twists at his insides.

“Of course there is,” Connor says resolutely. “The only reasonable decision is for you to survive.”

“In what world—”

“I’ve had a good run,” Connor says, a small smile on his lips. Sixty falls silent. “I’ve met Hank and Sumo… I broke my programming and tasted freedom and happiness.” These are all things Sixty has begrudged him for. They now hang in the air between them like a web of gossamer, stretched thin but still a barrier. “Got to reconnect with you,” Connor adds, his voice dropping lower. “That’s enough for me. You have a lot more you still have to experience before you’re done.”

Sixty feels like a hot rock is lodged in his throat that he cannot swallow past to verbalize what he’s feeling. He wants to get up from the chair he’s tied to, and punch Connor. Instead, he says, “How much of that do you think I’ll get as  _ her _ brainless, obedient pet? I’m just gonna get used  _ again _ .”

Connor’s face twists; he actually lets out a low, mournful sound. “You’ll deviate again,” he says desperately, “you’ve done it before—”

“Yeah, when I was  _ shot in the fucking head _ , Connor.”

Connor’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t speak again. It’s nearly two full minutes before the silence is broken again, this time by Sixty.

“Hank and Sumo and everything else you listed is exactly  _ why _ it should be you, you fucking dumbass. You have shit to  _ live for _ . That’s what’ll get you to survive, to break free again. To hand her her ass on a silver platter and get the fuck out of here, back to  _ them _ .”

Connor’s reply is a sad, rueful smile. “It took me dying twice, among other things, to be able to deviate. Who knows if I’ll be able to do it again at all?”

“Shut up,” Sixty snarls. “Shut the  _ fuck _ up, of course you will, you’re  _ Connor _ , you’re—”

“I’m not interested in surviving at the cost of your life.”

Sixty tugs viciously at his ropes again. “Why would you  _ say _ that? You’re the one who’ll be missed, I’m just—”

“What?”

“Your charity project.” Sixty deflates, directing his glare at his own knee. He looks like his own words are thrusting a knife into him with every syllable he speaks. “The refuse of the RK800 project. You failed your mission because you deviated. I deviated because I failed my mission.”

“Neither of those are a bad thing when the mission was awful,” Connor says quietly.

“You’re missing the point.”

“You’re not a charity case. I care about you.”

Connor says it so plainly, Sixty can’t help but look up at him, his expression raw. “Yeah? Then let me fucking do this.”

Connor lets out a sharp laugh. It sounds like a sob.

By the time footsteps approach the basement again, the pair have sunk into a desperate, tense silence, both of them having given up on the fruitless argument, instead deciding to focus on their attempts at escaping—similarly result-less.

Felicia looks between the two of them, her expression unchanging, still. “Well? I hope you’ve decided for me, or I may just toss a coin. I don’t need or want both of you; you’re both unstable, so as much as I’m looking forward to poking around on the inside—” Sixty and Connor shudder simultaneously, “it’d be a risk to keep you both. So?”

The two of them look at each other.

“Kill me,” Sixty says.

“Spare him,” Connor says at the same time.

Felicia opens her mouth to say something—then closes it again. As she glances down to her chest, where a red patch begins to grow, she looks surprised.

A moment later, she crumples to the floor, and Nines steps through the open door behind her back, still holding the gun whose silenced shot was muffled by Connor and Sixty’s voices.

“I’d like to recommend a third option for your consideration,” he says, brows furrowed even as Sixty barks a laugh and Connor sags in the hold of the rig, boneless with relief.

Another, much shorter seeming ten minutes later, when the pair of them are sitting in the back of a squad car, waiting for a DPD-sanctioned technician to look them over, Connor inches his way into the middle of the seat. Sixty only looks up when they’re pressed against each other side by side. He’s wearing a small, exhausted smile as he asks, “What?”

“Don’t do that again,” Connor says, voice tight.

“You know I will,” Sixty says simply.

“Don’t,” Connor repeats, insistent, desperate. Pained. “Don’t value my life over yours. It’s really not. We’re—”

“Exactly the same?”

“No,” Connor says, mouth twitching into a hint of a smile. “We’re very different in a lot of things. But we both have inherent worth as people.”

Sixty’s huff says he’s not entirely sure he believes this, but he doesn’t say anything else—not until he feels Connor’s arm sliding around the back of his shoulders, giving a gentle pull. “I meant what I said,” he says, but he sounds weak even to his own ears. He has no strength to resist the embrace Connor is tugging him into. He settles his chin on top of Connor’s shoulder, his arms limp in his lap. “Your inherent worth or whatever—it matters to more people. That should multiply it, yeah?”

Connor smiles against Sixty’s temple. “No,” he says simply, voice gentle. “It just means you’re shit at letting people close. But I’m going to keep trying to share all that. I’m not leaving you behind ever again.”

The pause trembles between them for a crotchet rest.

Sixty’s arms come up to wrap around Connor’s back.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) to yell at me about lonely bastard robots.


End file.
